


Sometimes Hate is Safer

by Anonmemeproject



Series: Transformers Anon Kink Meme - non sticky fills [6]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 18:00:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21432388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonmemeproject/pseuds/Anonmemeproject
Summary: Constructicons/GrappleBy AnonymousPublished August 12 2009The constructicons stalk Grapple canonically. Just watch 'Master Builder' - they stalk him. In 'Master Builder' they hardly say a word to Hoist, but are full of compliments for Grapple, even before they report to Megatron. Conclusion - Fanboys and their creepily obsessive behaviour.Backbit- On Cybertron, before the war, Grapple was considered THE top architect. All the constructions were in love with him. When they were caught by the robo-smasher, their love got very, very twisted. Now they want possession of him entirely.They wait until he's alone on earth, and capture him, take him back, and an orgy happens. up to the authour wether or not he's willing.
Relationships: Constructicons/Grapple
Series: Transformers Anon Kink Meme - non sticky fills [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1542844
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	Sometimes Hate is Safer

**Author's Note:**

> Link: https://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/1174.html?thread=510614#t510614
> 
> There is no link to the original request   
INCOMPLETE

Introduction

How could they not have loved him? His work, his art, had been lauded and loved; people had come from every corner of the planet just to get a glimpse of one of his buildings, to try and get a chance to have even the most miniscule hand in the creations of his designs. Maybe even, if they were lucky, to just to get a glimpse of him standing among the finished product of his labor. Proud. A true artist. 

Those people never did, and they never had. 

He had been driven. So driven. And nothing had ever satisfied him. They had known that much, and they had understood it, and they had loved him even more for it. That he never was satisfied and would never settle for something only second best even when he had defined what was best. That he didn’t have to. 

They had been great in their own right, of course. Never as great as him, maybe, but close…and not close all at the same time. 

It was all a matter of perspective, really. 

He had been peerless, unmatchable; a God to architecture. 

And they had been so young. 

Grapple returned in the night, walking slowly and carefully out of some irrational fear that the slightest sound would have Decepticons raining down on his head. Or worse- have Optimus Prime come down on him. 

He wasn't supposed to be out alone, after all. Grapple sighed in thought of the 'buddy system' Optimus had thought up for the non-combatants. It was all good in theory, of course, but that didn't make it any less bothersome. 

Grapple stopped walking, balancing his weight carefully with only a slight crunch of Earth as he gave the pile mostly cleared rubble a morose look. 

Another one of his structures. Gone. 

They were always gone. 

Grapple crouched wearily, optics dim and depressed as he surveyed the scene. He remembered there once being a time where he could build without having to worry about guns or bombs bringing his work down. He remembered when he had been free to do whatever he wanted with his work, to create however he so desired, without necessity and practicality to cage him in. 

And now look what that had turned into. His solar tower, nothing more than unwanted rubble and an unwanted idea. 

He had been so happy...

Grapple shook himself, pressing his lips tightly together and focusing on the ground below and not the remains of metal in front of him. No, no, he couldn't be thinking like that. It was a war and he was a soldier now, and that was that. There was no excuse for being so selfish. 

There was never an excuse. 

With a soft sound of annoyance, Grapple stood. Why had he even come out here? He could have mourned the remains of his last project back on the Ark just as easily. There had been no need to endanger himself and by extension the other Autobots by coming out here all alone.

Even...even if he had only wanted to see with his own optics, to know for sure...

Well, useless sentimintality. It was only a tower. 

Grapple nodded sharply to himself, ignoring the distressed rumbling from under his chest and the slight shaking in his hands. Really, so useless as getting distressed over some tower...

And the Constructicons. 

Grapple paused. He had been turning to go, but now he paused, disturbed. Where had that come from? The Constructicons? 

Hands forming loose fists, Grapple brought them up to cradle his head in, shaking it slowly back and forth. No, no, of course he couldn't be thinking such things as that. They were Decepticons after all, weren't they not? He should have known better. Hoist had certainly known better, had tried to warn him, and hadn't Grapple also been fighting them for just as long? 

He should have known better. He did know better, of course. 

It shouldn't be bothering him this much. 

Grapple released a shaky burst of air from his vents and off-lined his optics, trying to steady himself. It had to be left-over diappointment from the absolute failure his tower had ended in. That had to be it, and of course some distress over being betrayed was to be expected, even knowing the reputations of designs of Decepticons as an Autobot did. 

It could not, after all, have anything to do with the sense of completion working with an actual, qualified team had given him. Ones who seemed just as enthusiastic as he was. 

Grapple had known the Constructicons before they were Decepticons, had known them when building had been just as much art as sculpting or metalwork. He had been impressed by them. 

They were good, and it seemed war had made them even better.

Bonecusher!

What?

You could have killed him!

Scrapper jumped back to his rock, the tension in his shoulders unnoticeable to anyone not apart of the gestalt as he glanced quickly over the two trapped Autobots. 

Aw, if he couldn't survive a little thing like that...

Before Scrapper could reply to that with something most likely scathing, Scavenger cut in. I almost crushed Hoist! Did you see that? He was practically a ball of bouncing excitement as he peered at Grapple happily from his safe position hiding behind some of the group, tail twitching his amusement.

Yes, yes, very good. You tipped a rock. Hook was dry response, hanging around the far back of the group and pretending he wasn't interested. He was probably the only one who noticed that, though Scrapper was continuing to speak to the Autobots in an all around cheerful manner, he was on the verge of killing them all.

Of course, with their group, it was hard to tell. Bonecrusher, is it possible for you to be any more moronic?

Bonecrusher, who had jumped down to "back up" Scrapper's claim of friendliness ("if we wanted to destroy you, you'd be ten feet under by now!") with the well chosen words of "and we still could, too!" looked away from the Autobots for a second to glower back at them. Why are you all gettin' mad at me!

Mixmaster giggled, shuffling up near Scrapper who was gesturing excitedly with his arms now. A sure sign of his anger and a blatant way of telling them 'I'm ignoring you, see how much I'm ignoring you? I'm ignoring you'. Possibly because you keep threatening to kill our potential berth-mate, Bonecrusher, yes? Don't you think so? He paused for a moment. Of course, if y-you're into that kind of thing...

You get over here and say that to my-

Will you all be quiet! He's actually listening to me! Scrapper snapped. 

There was a moment of startled silence. 

...

Touchy, Was Hook's unimpressed opinion. 

Oh, yes, Mixmaster agreed. Though it's not quite his fault of course. Anyone gets touchy when they haven't been bedded in awhile, isn't that true, Hook?

Hook didn't deign to reply. 

Um, guys, Scavenger sounded much less sure of himself now and shuffled nervously. I think Scrapper's getting mad...

What would give you that idea? Long Haul said, finally interjecting. He had beena teempting to stare burning holes of hatred into Hoist's head. ...I don't like that green guy.

Scrapper twitched again, but Scavenger sent back a surprisingly vicious feeling agreement to Long Haul. He's stupid, why's Grapple haning around with him?

In their heads, Mixmaster gave the impression of clapping enthusiastically. Hook wasn't sure if it was an actual planned strategy to distract Long Haul and Scavenger from their potentially Hoist-endangering thoughts (a bad idea right now, if they wanted this plan to work) or if it just so happened to work out that why. He was leaning toward the latter. Ohhhh, I don't know, Scavenger, but I can't wait until we get Grapple home! Do you think we could steal him away right now, Scrapper, do you? Have him alllll to ourselves?

Before Scrapper could reply (and be tempted), Hook scoffed. That would be impractical. We still need the energy converter.

...Wait, we're actually going to do that?

Yes. Scrapper ground out, gesturing wider and more excitedly for the Autobots' benefit. 

Huh.

Scrapper then pulled out his gun and shot at the ground (his attempts at impressing Grapple were painfully obvious, Hook noted with a sigh), releasing the two Autobots with an overdramatic cry of 'you will have your proof!' And taking off. Again, overdramatically. 

Hook covered his face in his hand before following suit along with the others. 

Was that really necessary?

Scrapper sent back an embarassed and still annoyed impression of a shrug. He seemed to be impressed with it.

Long Haul grumbled and Mimaster giggled again. Of course he was, Scrapper, of course he was.

They flew in silence for a long while, and then, nearing base, Scrapper laughed.

Wasn't he great?

——

Grapple returned in the night, walking slowly and carefully out of some irrational fear that the slightest sound would have Decepticons raining down on his head. Or worse- have Optimus Prime come down on him. 

He wasn't supposed to be out alone, after all. Grapple sighed in thought of the 'buddy system' Optimus had thought up for the non-combatants. It was all good in theory, of course, but that didn't make it any less bothersome. 

Grapple stopped walking, balancing his weight carefully with only a slight crunch of Earth as he gave the pile mostly cleared rubble a morose look. 

Another one of his structures. Gone. 

They were always gone. 

Grapple crouched wearily, optics dim and depressed as he surveyed the scene. He remembered there once being a time where he could build without having to worry about guns or bombs bringing his work down. He remembered when he had been free to do whatever he wanted with his work, to create however he so desired, without necessity and practicality to cage him in. 

And now look what that had turned into. His solar tower, nothing more than unwanted rubble and an unwanted idea. 

He had been so happy...

Grapple shook himself, pressing his lips tightly together and focusing on the ground below and not the remains of metal in front of him. No, no, he couldn't be thinking like that. It was a war and he was a soldier now, and that was that. There was no excuse for being so selfish. 

There was never an excuse. 

With a soft sound of annoyance, Grapple stood. Why had he even come out here? He could have mourned the remains of his last project back on the Ark just as easily. There had been no need to endanger himself and by extension the other Autobots by coming out here all alone. 

Even...even if he had only wanted to see with his own optics, to know for sure...

Well, useless sentimintality. It was only a tower. 

Grapple nodded sharply to himself, ignoring the distressed rumbling from under his chest and the slight shaking in his hands. Really, so useless as getting distressed over some tower...

And the Constructicons. 

Grapple paused. He had been turning to go, but now he paused, disturbed. Where had that come from? The Constructicons? 

Hands forming loose fists, Grapple brought them up to cradle his head in, shaking it slowly back and forth. No, no, of course he couldn't be thinking such things as that. They were Decepticons after all, weren't they not? He should have known better. Hoist had certainly known better, had tried to warn him, and hadn't Grapple also been fighting them for just as long? 

He should have known better. He did know better, of course. 

It shouldn't be bothering him this much. 

Grapple released a shaky burst of air from his vents and off-lined his optics, trying to steady himself. It had to be left-over diappointment from the absolute failure his tower had ended in. That had to be it, and of course some distress over being betrayed was to be expected, even knowing the reputations of designs of Decepticons as an Autobot did. 

It could not, after all, have anything to do with the sense of completion working with an actual, qualified team had given him. Ones who seemed just as enthusiastic as he was. 

Grapple had known the Constructicons before they were Decepticons, had known them when building had been just as much art as sculpting or metalwork. He had been impressed by them. 

They were good, and it seemed war had made them even better.

And how good they had been! Eager and sharp, helpful, but with enough confidence in themselves and imagination that Grapple didn't feel the need to stand over tham at all times. Scrapper, who was just as much an architect as Grapple, who had been able to argue design and structure with him. Hook, who had not been even remotely afraid of verbally beating them over the head with their own plans when they had gotten to far carried away. Scavenger, eager to please and always knowing just what exactly was needed almost before they did, who was happy to talk and talk to Grapple about it. Mixmaster, who did some of the finest work Grapple had ever seen in materials and was certainly happy to explain it all to you step by step in the most humorous way. Bonecrusher, who had circled the base of the tower for hours looking for weak points, and driving everyone crazy by tearing apart whatever points he did find. Long Haul, always complaining, but just as eager to be apart of the process, pleased by the simplest praises and being given something of what he considered substance to do. 

Grapple had never worked with a team like them before in his life. Certainly not recently. 

He had hoped...

But no. No, Grapple laughed to himself, he was doing it again. Pitying himself. Being selfish. 

He should head back to the Ark now, before he allowed himself to get caught up in what-ifs and lost all track of the world. He should-

His gun was out before Grapple could fully register what his combat programs were yelling at him. 

Danger! Warning!

Red optics peered down from above him, and as Grapple caught up with his body and realized that there was a hand on his wrist. 

A hand on his wrist and it wasn't letting go. 

Grapple lurched backwards, trying to shake the Decepticon off, but there was suddenly someone behind him, holding him tightly under the arms and rendering him almost incapable of fighting back. Jerking his head back sharply did nothing but give him a headache as he didn't smash against face but a broad, extremely strong and well-armored chest. 

Oh no.

Grapple's optics brightened sharply with fear as the Decepticon in front of him, the one that had held his wrist, landed lightly. The bright green of his paint was almost visible in the darkness, and his red optics even more so. 

Scrapper inclined his head slightly, reaching out almost hesitently to touch Grapple's face, optic-band brightening when Grapple flinched away. Grapple scowled with false fierceness at the Constructicon as he pulled his hand away. He fans ran rapidly with sudden fear as the one behind him (Bonecrusher, he recognized now, and he tried not to think about how he did) tightened his grip.

Scrapper made an almost regretful and apologetic sound, but there was no denying the excited whir of his systems that made Grapple's own lurch in confusion and discontent. Scared. 

"Hello, Grapple."

"S-scrapper." Grapple whispered hoarsely, and then he winced at the way his voice shook and tightened. He'd tried to yell, he really had. 

The Constructicon's leader flared his optic-band as though surprised at the greeting, that Grapple hadn't run yet (regardless of how he was being held), and then they flickered with something like pleasure. He nodded eagerly, encouragingly. "Yes. And Bonecrusher." 

"And Bonecrusher." Grapple repeated faintly, not entirely sure why he bothered except that Bonecrusher gave a satisfied sound at the acknowledgment. He blamed the shock, but he didn't say anything else. 

Grapple watched Scrapper instead, surprised, but not fighting just yet.

Scrapper shifted a bit as the silence, thick with tension, grew. "We came to see you," he offered awkwardly, and Grapple could almost think he sounded hopeful. Bonecrusher shifted his grip on Grapple, switched to something more comfortable, probably, for the both of them (his feet were now on the ground at least, and Grapple was surprised to realize that his feet had even left the ground at all) and nodded. Grapple felt the larger Constructicon's chin brush the top of his head. 

"Yeah. We've been waitin' here for days," and the way Bonecrusher said it, he might have sounded slightly accusing. "What took ya so long? Playing with that green guy keep you occupied?" The dark rumble of his engine sounded dangerous even to Grapple's shock-hazed mind, and Scrapper's harsh look and sharp Bonecrusher didn't help. 

Threat reascertained, the shocked calm from the arrival and subsequent capture dissipated like smoke. 

Grapple jerked, engine revving suddenly harsh and panicked. "Well, it's not like I was expecting you here!" He cried, and Scrapper took a startled step back, turning sharply to look away from Bonecrusher and back to him. "And I most certainly wouldn't have come here anyway if I knew you were here. Let go of me!" Grapple twisted, and then laughed softly, then louder when Bonecrusher tightened his hold painfully, and Scrapper waved urgent hands at Bonecrusher, but not fast enough to stop him from imprinting painful dents in Grapple's armor. 

Not that Grapple had noticed, really. 

"That's not what-" Scrapper tried, but Grapple wasn't listening, occupied with trying (and failing miserably) to twist once again from Bonecrusher's unrelenting grip. 

"But you're not going to let go of me, are you? I mean, I can't say I was really expecting it, you realize? I didn't think I was that important, after all, I'm obviously not someone to be concerned about for you Decepticons. In fact, I'd assume I'm rather a great help, what with me being so wasy to manipulate and all!"

One thing that must be remembered, is that Grapple had recently been under quite a lot of stress. Not only had he been embarassed in front of his fellow Autobots, but he'd been betrayed, used, manipulated, and left to feel like a moron and fool. He had allowed himself to fall in love with a building again, had eagerly -not tentively- allowed himself to become lost in the designing and creation of something, and that was one thing he hadn't let himself do in billions of years. 

And then he'd watched all get torn away from him by laughing maniacs. 

No, Grapple was not in the best states of mind. Shock at the arrival of the Constructicons had kept him momentarily complacent, but now, just that slight added stress, was enough to send Grapple over the edge from whatever kind of 'okay' he'd been before this. 

It was billions of years of hopelessness, and Grapple had had enough. 

"I mean, really, it's not like I can even be much use as a hostage- I'm sure there are many Autobots who are quite convinced that I'm some sort of traitor right now and it hasn't been near enough time to convince them othe-"

The world was suddenly and very abruptly not as it should be as he was jerked around fast enough to send his equilibrium circuits on the fritz, and then even quicker he was pressed down to the ground, face-first, with Bonecrusher resting behind him with his engine running hotly.

"Would ya stop whinin' already?" Bonecrusher snapped, and Grapple froze again as the gravity of the situation hit him finally, his own fans whirring desperately to cool his suddenly overheated systems. 

Except for those noises, it was quiet for awhile, and then, with a soft crunch of Earth, Scrapper moved to crouch by Grapple's head. 

Grapple couldn't quite see Scrapper (unless you counted his legs) but that didn't stop him from offlining his optics so he didn't have to see even that much. He groaned softly and then went very, very still, and then from still to limp. Defeat and exhaustion. 

"I just..." Grapple said, but trailed off. "Just..."

Scrapper touched his face, pressing lightly (something stung, but that might have just been a scrape from the rocks that went flying when Bonecrusher brought him down). Still, Grapple twitched, shrinking away as best he could with Bonecrusher's ample weight pinning him down, and cut himself off again. He seemed to be doing a lot of that. 

"It's all right," Scrapper said, and gently ran his fingers along the side of Grapple's face, once, then twice, and the sedate pace of his engine was soothing. "You're upset. It's understandable."

Grapple shuddered and tried to twist his face away, but Bonecrusher was once again there and holding his head very firmly in place with one large hand. Scrapper never stopped his stroking. 

"I-" Grapple started, but Scrapper kept talking, raising his voice slightly to interrupt him and keep Grapple from working himself into a frenzy again. 

"After all, you're correct, we did, from your point of view, betray you, and we are Decepticons." Scrapper paused, soothing his thump along Grapple's cheeks. "And you're an Autobot." He sounded disappointed.

"And...and is this supposed to help at all?" Grapple muttered doubtfully, wearily, voice not much more than a sigh. Keeping his optics offlined helped a little, since the touches really were soothing, and even Bonecrusher's weight was comfortable as long as he didn't have to see that they were Decepticons and Constructicons on top of that. 

Scrapper made an amused noise and Bonecrusher settled more firmly on top of Grapple, running his engine in a strange way. Not bad, but strange. 

"This helps us when we're upset," Scrapper explained, ignoring Grapple's questions and continuing the soothing motions with his hands. "We weren't sure if it would work on you, since you're not us, but...I'm glad it does." 

Something about the way he said that sounded approving, but Grapple didn't bother trying to figure out what it was. 

"You're Decepticons, what do you care if I-" Grapple stopped speaking abruptly. There was something...something about the way he was feeling. So calm, far too calm in the presence of Decepticons. Even comforting, non-threatening Decepticons. They had tricked him once before, after all. 

"Hm?" Scrapper asked, sounding even more amused if at all possible, though maybe, also, a bit concerned.

"Do..." it was becoming harder to talk, Grapple noticed dimly, and relaxed into the dirt even though part of him was yelling at him to fight, fight, fight, danger. "Is drugging each other usually involved in 'calming' one another?" Grapple finally managed to ask, though he couldn't have told you how long the pause was. 

Bonecrusher laughed. "Told ya he'd figure it out; I think you might have given him a bit too much, Scraps." 

Scrapper, ignoring Bonecrusher, smoothed his entire hand across Grapple face- his nose his optics, his mouth, and rumbled softly. "Sometimes," he said. 

And the rest was darkness


End file.
